


It's Called a 'Senior Moment'

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-27
Updated: 2007-04-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: But he couldn’t figure out why the hell Michael was suddenlyPresidentof the Justin Taylor Fan Club.





	It's Called a 'Senior Moment'

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: As always, thanks to my super-beta Zod ([](http://anansay.livejournal.com/profile)[ **anansay**](http://anansay.livejournal.com/)) without whom I would continue to commit travesties against punctuation. *G*  


* * *

It took Brian three months, two weeks, four days and fifteen hours to forget. 

And once he had, it took barely thirty minutes to completely undo three months, two weeks, four days and fifteen hours of very careful planning, plotting, and avoidance tactics. 

He blames Mikey. And Lindsay. And Ted and Emmett and Debbie and Jennifer and Daphne. And Cynthia. 

+

Not long before Brian reopened Babylon, Michael started pestering him about when he was going to visit Justin. He managed to deflect Mikey's badgering most of the time with a variation of "I don't see how it's any of your business," ("Because I have some things for him and I was hoping you could take them with you.") Or "when I do, I assure you, you'll be the last to know," ("Oh, ha ha. No, seriously, when are you going?") And the occasional "Christ, Mikey! Why do you care?" ("Um. Because Ma wants assurances from someone who's seen him in person that he's eating?") 

But he couldn't figure out why the hell _Michael_ was suddenly President of the Justin Taylor Fan Club. So he kept stalling, and didn't ever come right out and say he had no intention of going to New York, and tried to figure out why the whole gang had stopped with the pity party and started acting like the wedding was back on. 

And then Emmett started. 

"Oooh! Brian! When are you going to visit Justin? I can't wait to hear _all_ the details of the club." Emmett slid into the booth behind Ted and Blake and propped his head up between their shoulders. 

"He said it's amazing. Three levels, with a backroom on each floor. Sounds like Brian Kinney's ultimate playground," Ted drawled smugly. 

Mikey grinned impishly around his double-bacon-cheeseburger. "So have you decided when you're going yet? Justin sounded really excited about getting to show you around. Oh! And do you think you could bring the newest set of drawings he's done for Rage back with you? The last set got kinks in the corners in the mail." 

Brian blinked slowly. Raised an eyebrow. Took a sip of coffee. And tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong with this entire conversation. 

"You're just going to slip off without telling anybody, aren't you?" Emmett smiled and sighed dramatically. "That's so romantic. I always knew you had it in you, sweetie." 

"What's romantic?" Debbie had wandered over to refill everyone's coffee cups. 

"Brian won't tell us when he's going to visit Justin. They're going to have a _secret liaison_." Blake was starting to sound entirely too much like Theodore. 

Debbie beamed at Brian and patted his cheek. "I am so proud of you two. I was so sure you were just going to call it all off when Sunshine left for New York, give up after all this time. I'm glad I was wrong, honey." She smiled at him again and left to check on another table. 

Brian reached for his wallet. "Well. On _that_ note, I have a meeting to get to." He dropped a twenty on the table and bolted from the diner. 

+

Two weeks later, Babylon was going strong, Kinnetik was pulling in more clients than ever before, and everyone still thought Brian and Justin were engaged in the most complicated long-distance relationship in the history of the world. 

"I think the webcams were a brilliant idea, Brian." 

"What?" Brian was sifting through a pile of proposals trying to find the financials Ted had demanded signatures on by that afternoon, while Lindsay was rambling in his ear about Lesbian Decorating and preschools and whateverthefuck. 

"The webcam. Justin was talking to Gus though it last night. Gus was so thrilled to be able to 'see' Justin. I hadn't even thought about it, but it's just brilliant. We're going to get one for Gus, and he's been asking all day when he gets to see you. Would tonight be good?" 

"For what?" 

Lindsay sighed. "To talk to Gus on the webcam. He's jealous that Justin's been able to see you and he hasn't." 

"Oh. Um. Yeah. What time?" 

"How's seven sound?" Brian could hear her barely contained excitement. 

"Sure. Sounds good." 

After Lindsay hung up, Brian scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation, and then slammed a finger on the intercom button. "Cynthia, find me an electronics store." 

"Looking for anything in particular?" 

"Webcams." 

+

Not long after that Brian had a standing date with his son three times a week to make faces at each other over the internet and talk about baby sisters who tried to play with Big Boy Toys, that kid Joey from the park who pushed other kids in the dirt, and finger painting 'like Justin.' 

Emmett had given up on getting details about the club Justin liked to dance at. Michael accepted that the Rage drawings were just going to get wrinkled occasionally. And Cynthia dropped an art magazine on Brian's desk. 

"I already sent one to Justin. It's a local publication that only runs quarterly so it's just now reporting on the show, but it raves about Justin's work. Better late than never, right?" 

Brian just stared at her until she rolled her eyes and went back to her own desk. He shifted the magazine under the pile of boards he was marking up and went back to work. 

+

Two months had passed since Justin had run off to New York and it was like he hadn't left at all. As far as Brian could tell, Justin talked to everyone nearly every day and as a result any time spent with anyone in their fucked up little family resulted in a constant stream of Justin-related chatter. 

"Did he tell you about the waitress who turned out to be a trannie and got outed by her…um… _his_ ex when the old flame came into the restaurant with a new boyfriend?" Emmett told that story with a lot of hand waving and shrieking giggles. 

"We're talking about making Gayopolis more like New York. Justin says the buildings are just more 'aesthetically pleasing' and there's more dark corners for JT to blow Rage in," Michael recounted, with a grin on his face and absolutely no jealousy-based huffy-ness to be found. 

"He sounds so happy!" said Deb while trying to get more manicotti on Brian's plate. "He promised to call and let me know how his meeting goes tomorrow with that big muckity-muck gallery about showing his paintings. Aren't you proud of him?" Brian smiled back and let her put more _fat_ and _carbs_ on his plate. 

Cynthia started sending him links to up-and-coming designers in Justin's area. "It's about supporting his community, Brian. They're all starving artists of a sort, a kind of subculture of their own. Besides, some of them are really good and if you build a relationship with them now you'll have first access to all their new lines when they're wildly successful and in demand later. Oh, and you should get that blue sweater for Justin, it matches his eyes." 

"…so we've gotten him his own little easel and paints set, washable of course. Justin always looks so proud when he's watching Gus paint for him. Oh! I wonder if we could set it up so all three of you could be on at the same time?" _Sure Linds, whatever._

Jennifer patted him on the cheek as she stepped through the door. "I had tons of jambalaya left over, and since Justin says it's your favorite I brought some for you. Although, frankly I think he makes it better than I do." 

Even Daphne, _Christ_. "It's worse than the apartment he had here, Brian. You're going to shit when you see it." 

And so it went, until that afternoon three months, two weeks, four days and fifteen hours after Justin left, when Brian forgot that Sunshine wasn't in Pittsburgh anymore. 

+

Justin had been staring at the computer screen for at least fifteen minutes. He didn't quite know how to respond to the e-mail. If he should respond at all. If it was a joke? 

Finally he decided to just go with it, and clicked 'reply'. 

To: BAKinney@kinnetik.com From: Pitts.Sunshine@gmail.com Subject: [re:] Fucking clients Brian Kinney wrote: >Fucking Forrester cancelled on me AGAIN, the fourth time in as many weeks. Asshole. >So I'll be done early tonight. I was thinking I'd stop by the new Indian place on my >way home. >B. 

Mom ate there last week; she said it was pretty good. She liked the curry chicken. What time will you be home? 

Later, Justin

+

By seven o'clock Brian was starving and grumpy and quite honestly looking forward to a quiet night at home. The triple order of curry chicken for Justin smelled really fucking good and he was hoping for thanks in the form of a Patented Sunshine Spectacular blow-job. That would probably make this entire loser of a day worthwhile. 

When he got inside though, the whole loft was dark and quiet and empty. No easel, no sketch books, no extra computer, no cargos on the bedroom steps, no water glass sitting on the coffee table without a coaster. 

No Justin. 

Just like it had been for three months, two weeks, four days and twenty-one hours. 

And so it was six hours and twenty-three minutes after Brian forgot, that he remembered again. And since Brian Kinney doesn't cry, and Brian Kinney never wanted to get married in the first place, and Brian Kinney most definitely does not miss the fucking little twink-that-could (do anything, go anywhere, have anything that Brian Kinney had to give,) he put his briefcase by his desk, set the ridiculously huge amount of Indian food on his counter, tossed his coat over the back of his sofa, put the Armani aside for the cleaners and pulled on his favorite jeans and a white tank top before moving over to pour himself a drink. 

After his third glass he lit a cigarette and very calmly, very gently, picked up the half-empty bottle of Beam—and chucked it at his five-thousand-dollar plasma TV. The bottle shattered with a most satisfying _crash_ , raining glass shards and amber liquid all over the floor. The vodka went next and this time the TV sparked as the screen cracked. He was about to throw the Jack Daniels when his phone rang. Striding over to his desk he ripped the phone from its charger and answered with a snarled _"what?"_

"So Angela has decided to go back to being Angel. He'd pretty much started with the whole trannie thing to avoid Thom but since Thom keeps bringing his boyfriend-of-the-minute to the restaurant to point him out there really isn't any point—" 

"Justin—" 

"—it's really a bunch of stupid drama more than anything. I thought Emmett was bad but this guy takes the Queenout-cake—" 

"Justin." 

"—and really Angel makes a seriously ugly woman. Convincing, but ugly. Angel's really hot, though, so I don't understand why he looks so bad in a dress. I think it was the makeup, he does a really shitty job—" 

"JUSTIN!" 

"What?" 

"Why the fuck are you calling me?" 

"Um. Because I couldn't be there for dinner. I have a meeting tomorrow with the Rosse Gallery. It's new, and it's only for a group show but the place is getting a lot of buzz so it will be good for networking if I can get in. Otherwise I would have been on a plane—" 

"Did you _not_ get the _point_ of me _not_ answering any of your phone calls, text messages, instant messages, and e-mails for the last three and a half months?" 

"Well, _yeah_. But I figured you'd just finally gotten over yourself when I got your e-mail this afternoon." 

Brian scratched the back of his neck and grimaced. Fuck. Three months of carefully orchestrated avoidance down the fucking drain because he didn't have the fucking balls to tell anyone it was over, for good, and managed to forget that himself. 

"Brian?" 

"I forgot." 

"Forgot what?" 

"That you left." He threw himself on the couch and lit another cigarette. "Everyone fucking rambles on and on about you all the motherfucking time, like how brilliant the webcam idea was, 'oh Brian, it's like he hasn't even left, I'm so glad you thought of it!'" he paused for a drag before continuing in the high-pitched tone, "we're so proud of you for working so hard to stay together. Here, Brian, I made you jambalaya; you should buy this sweater for Justin, it matches his eyes; Sunshine is doing so well.' Fuck, Justin, I know more about your fucking co-workers than I did when you worked at the goddamned diner. 

"We lost the Motorways account this morning, the art department fucked up _another_ set of boards, the plumbing backed up and the plumber charged a fucking _arm_ to get it fixed in a rush. Mikey spent lunch chattering about Rage. Ted rambled about setting up a stock portfolio for you once you started selling more. Emmett went on and on about the new scarf you bought from Ty-whatshisface. And then fucking Forrester called to cancel on me _again_ and I fucking forgot you left." 

"Gus really loves getting to talk to you with the webcam," Justin said softly. 

Brian snorted. "Yeah." He sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand across his head. "It's pretty cool. Why does Lindsay think it was my idea?" 

Justin chuckled. "Because I let her. I got it because Molly has one, and thought it'd be cool to let Gus see me, I…I don't want him to forget me, you know?" He got quiet for a moment. "Anyway, Linds just assumed…and I just didn't deny it." 

Neither of them spoke for long minutes, Brian smoked and listened to Justin breathing on the other end of the line. "You've just been letting them all assume a lot of things I'm guessing." 

"Pretty much. It meant I didn't spend the majority of every phone call defending you, and me, and our decisions. It meant I didn't have to listen to the pity and the 'poor little Sunshine's.' and the 'Brian's miserable without you's'." Brian chuckled at the derisive tone in Justin's voice. "And besides, I knew you'd pull your head out of your ass eventually, so this way we skipped the whole fucking interfering-with-the-best-of-intentions crap, and the lectures. And the hitting." He could hear the grin on Justin's face at that. 

"You're a sneaky little shit, you know that?" 

"That's why you love me." Brian smiled; a real, genuine smile. "So. Did you get the curry chicken?" 

"Enough to feed me for a month. Debbie was bitching about you eating enough, at lunch today." 

Justin laughed and Brian laughed with him. 

+

They finally hung up when the battery on the phone started to die. But that was only after Brian had nearly decimated the chicken, and Justin had finished the lasagna he'd ordered from the little hole-in-the-wall below his shitty apartment and told Brian all about his newest painting and Ty Victorious, ("I have no idea what his real name is, but he makes Emmett look like pilot-light,") the clothing designer who lives down the hall and who really truly stands a chance at making it big, and Brian confessed to breaking the TV, ("That was really…queeny of you Brian." "Yeah well...") and talked about the bid he has in for a new account that would more than make up for the loss of Motorways, and if he gets it, Justin's getting a new car for Gus's birthday. ("The. Fuck. What the fuck would I do with a car?" "You drive it." "Brian—" "Preferably on the Pennsylvania Turnpike." "That's…kind of sweet." "Don't tell anyone.") 

+

Three months, two weeks and a little more than five days after Brian determined to forget all about his temporary visit to Stepford-Fagville, he decided to just keep forgetting to forget how much he'd really kind of maybe not hated it, instead. 


End file.
